


And All His Presents

by circ_bamboo



Series: he'll understand what kind of gal I've been [3]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M, Sex Education
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 10:16:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circ_bamboo/pseuds/circ_bamboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five pieces of unsolicited sex advice that Steve received, and one he actually asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And All His Presents

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank A., S., J., C., and B. for the pieces of advice that I stuck in the mouths of random Marvel and/or original characters for this fic. Of course, this advice is not intended to have any more weight than your average Cosmo column, but it amused me.
> 
> It's also, unrelatedly, at least sort of LJC's fault that this exists at all. (She asked for more adorable!Steve and Natasha.)

_one_

“Third date, huh?” Tony said, as he watched Steve tie his tie in the reflection in the window of the common room. “Hope you’re good with your tongue.”

Steve wasn’t really paying too much attention to Tony, as, well, he had a date with Natasha in about twenty minutes, so he said, “Huh?”

Tony chuckled. “Just remember, if your eyelashes aren’t wet, you aren’t trying hard enough.” He saluted Steve with two fingers and wandered off to the kitchen.

“My . . . eyelashes?” He wasn’t a complete innocent; he knew what Tony was conceptually talking about, but . . . huh. Okay.

_two_

“Heya, Cap,” Darcy said, sliding into the seat across from Steve in the SHIELD cafeteria. “What’s got you all wide-eyed?”

Steve swallowed, and reviewed the conversation he’d overheard between a couple of the younger SHIELD employees behind him. “People . . . get strange things pierced these days, don’t they?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “Noses, eyebrows, belly buttons . . . yes, I’ve had all of those. Also I’ve seen earrings going through here--” She touched a ridge in the middle of her ear. “--and cheek piercings here--” She touched where a dimple might be. “--and even someone who had this pierced.” She grabbed the web of her thumb.

“Ow,” Steve said and winced. “No, but I meant . . . more sensitive than that.”

“Ohhhh,” Darcy said, and nodded. “Yeah, people do that. Some swear it makes sex better.”

Steve blinked.

“I mean, not to get all TMI on you, but tongue piercings are more successful than PAs for that, I think.”

He froze, and spent a full thirty seconds parsing that sentence. ‘TMI’ meant ‘too much information’; Clint and Tony occasionally said it, especially around Thor. A tongue piercing . . . “Would a tongue piercing look like a silver ball in the middle of someone’s tongue?” Steve asked. He’d seen that on a woman at the coffee shop in Stark Tower.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, and pulled up a picture on her phone, a line drawing. “It’s a barbell-shaped thing, usually sits about here.” She stuck out her tongue and pointed to a spot on it.

He nodded. “And a PA is?”

“Prince Albert. It’s, uh . . . from about the center point to six o’clock, either a ring or a curved barbell. Don’t Google it; I don’t want to be responsible for making your brain explode.”

“Too late,” Steve said, head in his hands and legs crossed tightly, and Darcy laughed.

_three_

“And I said to him, oh no, you do _not_ demand the ass! You are _offered_ the ass, if you are damn lucky. Right? Right! No. Yeah, I can’t believe it either. Oh, okay. Bye!” The young woman holding onto the subway pole in front of him saw Steve’s wide eyes and said, “Buddy, I don’t know what your girlfriend is like, but remember that, right? You don’t demand the ass.”

“No, ma’am.”

_four_

“Hey, Cap,” Clint said, his voice slurred. “Good timing. I think I’m drugged. Can’t figure out how to get out of these damn ropes.”

“That’s fine,” Steve said. “It’s why I’m here.” He grabbed a knife out of Clint’s boot and started sawing through the ropes binding Clint to the chair in the mostly-deserted warehouse.

A couple minutes later, Clint was free, rubbing at his wrists. “Hate stupid hemp ropes,” he said, still a little unclear. “Stupid chafing. Always use silk ropes, you know, if you need to tie someone up.” He gave Steve a goofy grin. “If you know what I mean. No chafing. Kind of expensive, but totally worth it.”

Steve’s mind immediately presented him with a rather detailed picture of Natasha wrapped in silk ropes--red ones, of course--criss-crossing her body in a symmetrical pattern. He banished the thought just as quickly--it was about as likely to happen as Fury regenerating his eye--and said, “Thanks, buddy. Let’s get you to Medical, okay?”

“Sure.”

_five_

Steve walked into the kitchen just after lunch and saw Pepper Potts at the sink, washing her hands and arms, up to the short sleeves of her shirt. “Good morning, Pepper,” he said.

“Morning, Steve,” she said, and continued scrubbing. “Ugh. Chocolate syrup--it usually takes practically a shower to get yourself clean afterward.”

Had he been paying attention, he probably would have noticed the half-exploded syrup bottle on the counter to her right, but he didn’t, and after the conversation with Darcy yesterday about piercings, the woman on the subway, and Clint and the ropes, all he could think was--well, things he probably shouldn’t be thinking about. He froze, maybe a foot from the fridge.

Pepper turned, saw him frozen, and laughed. “The bottle exploded,” she said. “I don’t know why, and I don’t care. But I guess I lucked out; chocolate syrup is bad, but honey is worse.”

“Oh,” he said. “I’m just going to--”

“Baking!” she called after him. “Try washing honey out of a measuring cup--oh, dear. Natasha’s going to kill me if I broke his brain.”

_and one_

“Bruce, you’ve got medical training, right?” Steve asked, hovering near the door of his lab.

“Some,” Bruce said. “First aid certifications, EMT, growing up in the modern western world with a biologist for a girlfriend, et cetera. Come on in. What’s wrong? I can at least tell you whether you need to go to Medical or not.”

“No, I’m not--it’s not that,” Steve said, but he stepped in and the door closed behind him. “It’s--” He sighed. “I need advice. It’s a little embarrassing, and Google is not being helpful.”

“There’s about a zero percent chance that I’m the best person to give you advice,” Bruce said, “but hey, go for it. I’m well acquainted with embarrassing things that Google is not helpful for.” He gave Steve a grin, and set down his tablet on the lab table in front of him.

Steve took another deep breath, felt his face flame, and said, “Condoms. Er. Birth control. I don’t--there were really only a couple kinds back in--back the last time I knew anything about this, and even then it wasn’t much, but--”

“Okay, okay,” Bruce said, and held his hand up. “Hold on.” He looked at the ceiling for a moment and said, “You know what, it’s a little hilarious that I _am_ , in fact, the best person for this conversation.”

“Um,” Steve said. “That’s why I asked you.” Well, okay, it was mostly because Thor was useless, Tony and Clint would make fun of him endlessly, and he just couldn’t talk to any of the women about this, but still.

“Yes, but--Never mind,” Bruce said. “I can explain to you how most modern birth control works if you really want to know, but honestly, the person you need to talk to about this is Natasha. She probably has her own opinion on the matter, and I’d be very surprised if she weren’t already using some form and has been for a while, regardless of whether she was sleeping with someone or not.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “I--why?”

Bruce looked at the ceiling again. “Among other things, many forms of modern birth control allow women to have control over when they menstruate.”

“They do?” He had no idea how that was possible, but--

“Let’s take this back to the beginning,” Bruce said, and patiently explained about the menstrual cycle, the Pill, and other forms of hormonal birth control. It was dry, and rather scientific, but much easier to hear that way.

“That’s . . . a lot of information,” Steve said afterward. “Thank you.”

“That’s all theoretical,” Bruce said. “I don’t know anything about Natasha specifically, and if I did, I probably wouldn’t tell you, anyway, because you need to talk to her about this, and sooner, rather than later. Preferably at a time when you are both wearing clothing.”

Steve felt his face turn hot again. “Yeah, I will.”

“Good.”

_bonus: epilogue_

“Huh,” Natasha said, and the fact that all she could say was ‘huh’ at this point filled Steve with an inordinate amount of pride. “Your eyelashes are wet.”

“They’re wet?” he said. _Well, hot damn._

She reached out to brush them gently with a fingertip. “And clumping together. It’s cute.” She gave him a loopy grin.

He kissed her fingertip as it wavered near his mouth, and said, “I’m told that means I’m trying hard enough.”

“Ohhh, yes,” she said. “And succeeding. _Definitely_ succeeding.”


End file.
